


Dads can be Ginger too

by fractionallyfoxtrot



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Established Relationship, Father-Daughter Relationship, M/M, With Martin trying to be a great dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-20
Updated: 2013-01-20
Packaged: 2017-11-26 04:18:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/646493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fractionallyfoxtrot/pseuds/fractionallyfoxtrot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Douglas is stranded in another country on a very important Saturday.  Martin, by a strange stroke of luck, isn't stuck with him.  Despite being the bearer of bad news, he's more than willing to stand in for Douglas and accompany Catherine, Douglas' daughter, to the highly anticipated dance... if she'll let him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dads can be Ginger too

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [My other dad](http://cabinpres-fic.dreamwidth.org/4885.html?thread=7739669#cmt7739669) prompt on the meme.

Catherine Richardson jumped out of bed at eight-fifteen without a single call from her mother. She didn’t bother changing out of her pajamas before she headed downstairs. Catherine surprised her mother when she appeared in the kitchen with a cheerful greeting. It was usually a daunting task to get Catherine out of bed in time to be at school by nine; it often required an hour of calling to her and too often resulted in Catherine dressing in the car, struggling to eat her toast without dirtying her uniform. However, today was special and Catherine couldn’t wait to get the day started.

She went straight to the calendar on the fridge and drew a line through yesterday, a Friday, before opening the door to pull out the milk. Catherine made herself a bowl of cereal, complete with blueberries and spoonful of sugar. She put the milk back in the fridge, pausing to smile at the calendar. Today, a Saturday, had been colored bright green and circled three times in thick black marker; ‘Dad Pick Up at 5:30’ filled the square in Catherine’s handwriting. She noted the time on the clock above the kitchen sink: nine hours still to go.

Catherine carried her breakfast into the dining room, followed by her mother and her cup of coffee. She took a seat at the middle of the table, glancing to her right where her stepfather Miles was hidden behind the newspaper. She resisted the urge to make a face at him--the man seemed to be able to sense sass--and instead turned to her mother, who hadn’t come in farther than the doorway.

“Mum, can I call Dad?”

The paper rustled, as it always did whenever Catherine’s father was mentioned, but everyone in the room chose to ignore it. Her mother picked the phone up from its base and set it down on the table beside Catherine.

“Of course, dear, but isn’t it a bit early?” she asked as Catherine started to dial the number she knew by heart.

“Yeah, I know,” Catherine shrugged. “But I just want to talk to him.” A voice answered on the other end of the line, one that wasn’t her father’s but that Catherine was familiar with anyway. “Hello, Martin! Is Dad there?”

The newspaper rustled again, as it always did whenever Catherine’s father’s partner was mentioned, and her mother scoffed at a volume she believed Catherine couldn’t hear, although she always did.

Catherine’s face fell a little at the answer. “Oh, not yet then? Okay. No, that’s fine, it’s fine. Can you just tell him I called and that I can’t wait to see him? Yeah, that’s all. Thanks, Martin.”

She was a little disappointed as she hung up the phone. Her dad told her last week that MJN had taken an impromptu job that would take him out of the country a few days before today, this particular Saturday, but he also told her they’d arrive back in Fitton the night before thus having no effect on their plans. According to Martin, they weren’t back yet but Catherine wasn’t worried; flights got delayed all the time. Also, it was her dad. He never failed to keep his word, even after the divorce, even after her mother moved them two hundred miles away from him.

Catherine could always rely on her dad.

* * *

Martin looked up from his book when the phone rang again around ten. He was reluctant to answer; he had one guess as to who it was and he didn’t have any new news.

“Hello? Hi, Catherine. No, no I’m sorry, he’s still not back yet,” Martin sighed, hearing the disappointment in the girl’s voice. He checked his mobile, not surprised to see no new calls or messages considering he’d last checked it two minutes ago. “No, I don’t know where they are. I haven’t heard from him either; they should’ve left by now. I will. Yes, as soon as I hear from him. All right. Good bye.”

Martin left his book and the phone on the couch and went into the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea. The chart on the fridge caught his eye as he filled the kettle with water. Today, a Saturday, had been outlined in bold red ink for almost eight weeks. Notes in Douglas’ handwriting filled the square, even spilling over into next week Saturday: when he had to pick Catherine up, where they were going, what he was meant to wear. Martin suspected that Douglas had been looking forward to today just as much as Catherine had.

He pulled out his mobile after he put the kettle on. Martin left what would probably be his twentieth unanswered message in hopes of having good news when Catherine inevitably called again.

* * *

“Still?” Catherine asked at noon.

“Yes,” Martin answered reluctantly on the other end. “I had a look at the weather. There’s a group of thunderstorms over the whole area; that might be causing their delay.”

“They won’t let them fly in a thunderstorm?”

“Depending on how severe the conditions are, no. It’s very dangerous to fly in a thunderstorm.”

“Yeah, it probably is,” she grumbled, flopping face first onto her bed.

Catherine bit down on her lip, stifling the sarcasm that automatically rose with her annoyance. She knew it was dangerous to fly in a thunderstorm, she didn’t need Martin to tell her that. What she needed was her dad to tell her his plan of how he was going to get to her despite the thunderstorm; her dad always had a plan and his plans always worked.

“There’s still time,” Martin offered hopefully.

“Yeah,” she sighed, neither agreeing or disagreeing with him. “Just tell him I called, okay?”

Catherine missed most of Martin’s response, having set the phone down before he finished talking. She hugged her pillow to her chest and turned to look at her closet. Her mother had hung her new dress on the outside of the door. It was blue, a dark midnight blue, with lace cap sleeves and flock of birds embroidered in black rising from the bottom hem. The new shoes that went with it sat on the ground beneath the dress.

Muffled but still discernable pieces of conversation made its way through her bedroom door. Catherine pulled the pillow out from under her chest and buried her head underneath it, blocking out the sounds of her mother and her stepfather’s disagreement.

Her dad had helped her pick out the new dress over a video call, not Miles. Her dad had sent her a new necklace to wear with it, not Miles. Her dad was who she wanted to go to the Father-Daughter dance with, not Miles.

If her dad wasn’t going to go with her, then she didn’t want to go at all.

* * *

“It’s just a little rain, a drizzle!” Douglas groaned in frustration. Martin decided it wasn’t wise to mention the thunderclaps he could hear in the background. “I’d hardly call it a ‘storm’; this precipitation isn’t even worthy of that designation. It certainly isn’t cause to ground all aircraft ‘immediately and indefinitely.’” The thick coating of sarcasm on those last few words suggested that Douglas was very tired of hearing them.

“So, chances of you getting out in time?”

“None at all, seeing as I was supposed to be dressed and on my way to Barrow-in-Furness by now.” Douglas breathed a heavy sigh and continued in a tone that spoke more of his disappointment than annoyance. “I asked Carolyn not to take this job; she knew about the dance, it was only on the wall chart for months! Whole lot of good that did,” he scoffed. Martin could imagine him rubbing his brow as he spoke, “Even if we left right now, I’d barely make the end of it after changing and driving up there.”

“I’m sure she’ll understand,” Martin said, knowing it was a weak comfort even as he said it.

There was a shuffling noise and Martin knew Douglas had stood up. “I don’t want her to understand. I want to be there for her,” he insisted. His volume increased as he started to pace. “From the moment she was born, I’ve never missed anything important. If she wanted me there, I was there, regardless of distance or time. She can count on me, Martin, and nothing is more important to me than that.”

“I know, Douglas, but even she can’t fault you for a thunderstorm.” Martin chuckled, “Despite what you may think, you’re not actually a Sky God.”

“Martin, I thought you, of all people, would have unwavering faith in my divinity. You’ve certainly spoken about it enough, often quite loudly, I might add.”

“What I meant was,” he said loudly, feeling his cheeks flush from Douglas’ innuendo, “one missed event due to an act of God isn’t going to ruin your record. She’ll still know she can count on you. She loves you.”

“You’re probably right,” Douglas conceded. “However, I’d really prefer not to break my duck.”

The house phone rang next to Martin’s elbow. He glanced down at his watch; two o’clock, like clockwork.

“That’ll be her,” he told Douglas. “Did... did you want me to tell her?”

“No,” Douglas said quickly. “I should be the one to break the bad news. Tell her about the thunderstorm and that I’m fine but say you don’t know anything else.” He sighed. “Call me when you’re done and I’ll tell her.”

Martin agreed, feeling a little relieved that he wouldn’t have to be the messenger. Catherine adored Douglas and Martin could only imagine how disappointed she’d be to hear that he wouldn’t be taking her to the dance they’d both been anticipating for weeks. Martin sighed to himself as he picked up the house phone; this was really going to put a damper on the week she was set to spend with them starting Sunday.

“Hello?”

“Did he call?” Catherine asked. “Is he back yet?”

“He did call, I’ve just finished talking to him. There’s a pretty bad thunderstorm over the area but he and Arthur and Carolyn are fine.”

“Can they fly? Is he coming?”

Martin avoided her questions. “He’s going to ring you himself once we’re done.”

“He’s not coming, is he?”

“What? That’s, that’s not, I never said, he just,” Martin sputtered helplessly. He hadn’t told her, he wasn’t meant to tell her, but now he had no way to respond. “Why, why do you say that?” he asked, both curious and hoping to play down her near certainty.

“He’s going to call me himself, that means it’s bad,” she explained. “If it was good, you could tell me because that means he’s busying flying the plane.” Catherine’s voice shrunk on the other end, making it difficult for Martin to hear her. “I can’t believe he’s not coming.”

Martin jumped to Douglas’ defense. “He’s terribly sorry, Catherine. He really does want to be with you. It’s just the thunderstorm; it’s too severe, it would be too dangerous.”

“He’s never missed _anything_ before, and now...” Her voice faded away and silence was all Martin heard for a few moments. “And now I won’t even go to the dance,” she mumbled.

“Could Miles take you?”

Catherine scoffed at Martin’s question, doing an excellent impression of Douglas. She continued her impression with the unamused way in which she drew out her stepfather’s name. “ _Miles_ doesn’t want to take me; I heard Mum trying to ask him to. Not that I care,” she all but snapped, “he’s not my dad and I wouldn’t want to go with him even if he had agreed.” The constant reminder that she was Douglas’ daughter continued as Martin could almost hear the annoyance leave her when she sighed. “I was just... really looking forward to it.”

“Would you like me to take you?”

Martin silently cursed his inability to think before he spoke. Now the question was out there, hanging in the distance between them, and there was nothing he could do to take it back. Of course she wouldn’t want him to take her; it was a Father-Daughter dance and he was neither her father or stepfather. If she didn’t want Miles, then she certainly wouldn’t want Martin. Both men were extremely poor substitutes for Douglas in Catherine’s eyes.

At least, that’s what Martin thought.

“Martin, you... really? You would do that?”

“What?” Martin asked, caught entirely off guard.

“You would do that?” she asked again. “You would take me to the dance?”

“Um, well, yes, yes of course,” he stuttered, trying to sound as if he really did mean it. He really did but Martin had never expected her to _want_ him to take her. “If, if you want me to, that is, of course.”

“When could you be here?” she asked hesitantly.

Martin checked his watch; the drive would take at least three hours. “I might be able to make it by six.”

“That’s still good!” Martin couldn’t help but smile at Catherine’s sudden upswing in mood. “We’d only be a little late. You’ll, you’ll really come then?”

“Arthur’s surprising rice couldn’t keep me away,” he assured her.

Catherine laughed, chasing away the last of Martin’s worries over his stupid question which was turning out to be not so stupid after all. “Do you remember how to get to my mum’s place?”

“Yes,” Martin answered, springing to his feet. “And I’ve got the address written down around here somewhere, just in case. I’ve got to get changed but after that, I’ll leave straight away and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Okay! I’ll go get ready too and wait for you. And, Martin?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

“Catherine, you don’t have to thank me. I’m, I’m more than happy to do it.”

“Well, thank you anyway. I’ll see you in a few hours!”

Martin dropped the house phone and picked up his mobile. He headed straight for the stairs, stopping at the first step when he realized that he didn’t own anything appropriate to wear. His nicest shirt and trousers were both for work and he didn’t own a jacket to go with them other than his pilot’s uniform. Douglas’ clothes would never fit him so Martin turned to the next best person he could think of. He dialed one of the students from Parkside Terrace, praying that he wouldn’t be busy as the line rang.

“Martin!” said Tommy as soon as he picked up the call. “No one’s heard from you in ages. How are you doing?”

“Pretty well actually,” he answered. “Tommy, I hate to do this to you, especially since we haven’t talked in a while, but I need a favor.”

“Sure, Martin, anything I can manage,” Tommy agreed easily. “What did you need?”

“A suit and Logan’s car.”

* * *

As Catherine predicted, she and Martin walked into the dance a little late. 

It had taken him longer than he anticipated to borrow a suit from Tommy; Tommy was taller than Martin and he wasn’t satisfied with just handing Martin one of his suits. Tommy insisted on also raiding Logan and Lucas’ closets to piece together the best possible ensemble based on what was available to them. Martin eventually left the shared house wearing his own trousers, Tommy’s shirt, and a jacket Lucas had outgrown about a year ago. He also had five different ties on the passenger seat of Logan’s car, with specific instructions on which to wear based on what color Catherine’s dress turned out to be.

_“Honestly, Martin,” Tommy grumbled, holding yet another tie up against Martin’s chest, “I can’t believe you didn’t even think to ask.”_

He’d gone with the blue one when he picked Catherine up and he was currently resisting the urge to loosen it. Martin wasn’t quite sure what he’d gotten himself into. The room was filled with fathers and daughters, all presumably Catherine’s classmates and their dads and all who would inevitably ask who Martin was and why he was here with her. He hadn’t asked Catherine what she wanted him to say. Martin thought it would be best to follow her lead and let her decide what she wanted to tell people.

Three girls approached them as soon as they walked in. The tallest one, a brunette with tightly wound curls, crossed her arms and sneered at them. Catherine’s hand tightened around Martin’s and she moved minutely closer to him.

“This is a _Father-Daughter_ dance, Cat,” the brunette said snidely, instantly earning Martin’s dislike. “You were supposed to bring you dad.”

“This _is_ my dad,” Catherine shot back.

The girl scrunched up her nose as she looked Martin over. “No, he’s not. We’ve seen your dad before, remember? You brought him to career day. This isn’t him. He’s too...” The girl frowned at Martin, as if she were trying to decide which adjective best differentiated him from Douglas. She finally settled on, “Skinny.”

“And short,” one of the other girls added.

“And ginger,” said the third.

“I didn’t say he was the same man, I said he was my dad,” Catherine responded with irrefutable logic. “This is my other dad.”

“You have two dads?” the brunette asked skeptically.

“Yeah, and a mum, and stupid stepfather.”

“He’s not your stepfather?” the girl asked pointing at Martin. She looked confused for a moment before quickly putting the pieces together. “So he’s with your dad? Like, your dad’s-”

“Gay,” Catherine interrupted before the girl could say it. “Yeah, they’re gay. They’re also brilliant, just like Francie’s dads and Violet’s dads.” Catherine stepped towards the girl, her expression shifting into one that reminded Martin eerily of Douglas at the height of a scheme. “And at least they’re honest about it.”

The brunette’s eyes widened at Catherine’s subtle accusation. Her two friends looked just as surprised and they backed away into the crowd, leaving the brunette alone to stare at Catherine with her hand clapped over her mouth. Catherine arched one of her eyebrows a little too skillfully, taunting the other girl out of her shock. She stepped further into Catherine’s face, barely leaving enough space between them to shake a finger at her.

“That is why no one likes you, Cat.”

“And no one likes you because you treat everyone like they should be lucky to breathe the same air as you. Breaking news, Breena: we don’t want to breathe your air. You can keep it.”

Catherine grinned when Breena gasped at her. The other girl tried to articulate a comeback; after a few moments of speechlessness, she turned on her heel and stalked away. Catherine was making a face at her as she walked away until Martin put a hand on her shoulder.

“Catherine, that wasn’t very nice,” he scolded, using his serious voice.

“Breena started it!” she protested. “She wasn’t nice to me!”

“I know but you don’t have to stoop down to her level. You’re better than that.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” Catherine apologized quickly. Her eyes lit up when she caught sight of something behind Martin. “Look, Martin! There’s my friend Francie. She actually likes me.” Catherine pulled Martin along by his hand, pointing to a girl in a pink dress standing with two men. “Come on,” she smiled, “you’ll like her dads. One of them is in the RAF and flies fighter planes!”

* * *

It was almost quarter to nine when Douglas walked in, pulling his jacket over his shoulders and straightening his tie, and the event was just about over. From his experience with these things, it looked like about half of the crowd had already left. The dance floor was populated entirely by girls, dancing without a care, spinning and dipping one another in an exaggerated film fashion. The fathers were scattered throughout the room, segregated into groups based on common ground like football, business, or state of marriage. He wasn’t surprised at all when he spotted Catherine and she pointed him towards Martin, sitting with the only other known pilot in the room.

“Douglas!” Nolan greeted, making Martin turn in surprise. “Martin told us about the thunderstorm. We didn’t think you’d make it.”

“Where there’s a will, there’s a way, especially when it comes to Catherine. Tell me, Tim, how’s Francie?”

“Same as always,” Tim sighed. “We love her, of course, but she certainly doesn’t make anything easy.”

“We’re still hoping Catherine will rub off on her a little,” Nolan chuckled.

“Be careful what you wish for; Catherine’s developing a particularly sharp wit that her mother and I often have to warn her against vocalizing.”

“I wonder where she gets that from,” said Martin with a roll of his eyes.

Douglas put a hand on Martin’s shoulder. “Would the two of you mind if I borrow Martin for a moment?” he asked.

“Not at all.”

“Take your time.”

“Thank you.”

Douglas pulled out Martin’s chair and escorted him to the side of the room. When they were alone, Douglas wrapped his arms around Martin, bringing the shorter man into his embrace.

“You were supposed to call,” Douglas reminded him.

“Oh! Douglas, I’m so sorry, I completely forgot!” Martin apologized. His speech grew faster and less sure as he stumbled into a retelling of the events that brought them there. “I, I answered her call and told her about the thunderstorm like you said but she already knew that you weren’t coming! Then, well, then I blurted out an offer to take her. I never expected her to say ‘yes,’ not that I wanted her to say ‘no’ but I didn’t think she would and then she did so I had to call Tommy and-”

Martin’s nervous babbling was cut off by the sudden press of Douglas’ lips to his. Douglas held Martin in place with both hands, gently kissing him until Douglas could feel the tension slip out of his body. Well aware of their surroundings, Douglas pulled back far sooner than he usually would, still pleased with the smitten smile left on Martin’s face.

“When I hadn’t heard from you by the time we touched down, I called Verna,” Douglas explained. “She told me what you did, agreeing to take Catherine to the dance, driving all the way up here to pick her up, and I really appreciate it, Martin. I really do, thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me, Douglas. I was more than happy to do it.” He turned his head to look out at the dance floor, smiling even brighter as he watched Catherine dance with Francie. “I still can’t get over it,” Martin said, shaking his head. “She actually wanted me to take her, Douglas. _Me._ She didn’t even want Miles but she wanted me.”

“I’m not surprised,” Douglas shrugged. “She doesn’t like Miles and she’s pretty fond of you. As am I.”

Martin turned back at Douglas. “She was really happy to see me. We were a little late, and when we came in there was this girl who was just awful to her, but she...” Martin’s smile softened as he put a hand on Douglas’ chest to anchor himself. “She called me her ‘dad,’” he said in astonishment.

Martin looked surprised when Douglas laughed. Douglas gathered the small, frowning man into his arms and held him close as he whispered into Martin’s ear. “That’s because you are her dad, Martin.” Douglas turned his head to press a kiss to Martin’s temple. “I knew it, she knew it, and now we’re both very glad that you know it.”

“You could’ve told me,” Martin grumbled, trying to hide the undeniable warmth blooming in his chest.

“The next time my child makes a place for you in her heart, I promise, you’ll be the first to know,” Douglas assured him.

At the end of the night, when Catherine had tired herself out, it was Martin who carried her out to the car.

He set her down in the backseat, draping his borrowed jacket over her and kissing her lightly on her forehead. Catherine murmured sleepily as Martin explained that they’d be stopping by her mum’s place to pick up her things before heading back to Fitton. She faintly registered the closing car doors and the start of the engine. The motion of the car, and the soft whispered conversation coming from the front seat, lured Catherine ever closer to sleep. She didn’t try to stay awake until they reached her mum’s place; she knew they would gather what she’d need in Fitton without any of her help.

Catherine could always rely on her dads.


End file.
